Tainted Love
by TNWanderer
Summary: Kira manages to keep L as his captive, but for what? KiraxL Yaoi For Archive


This story is here for archival purposes, since the other site I use for posting this hates me and doesn't accept loooong chapters, I had to put this here for its readers. So, you can ignore this.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything, I just one day caught myself writing this fic. So _Death Note_ and Its characters are not mine! Also the song _Tainted Love_ isn't mine, too, though I only used it for the main title and chapter titles.

**AN:**

**First, I must warn you that in this story L might seem a little bit OOC, but if you consider what he goes through you might understand even the most self contained person would slip a little bit. I hate when authors portray him as if he is made of stone! We only see him during the Kira case so we don't know what kind of a person he is when he feels himself secure and loved or lonely and cornered. Yes, he is a stoic but not a stone and he has the right to crack, too...**

**So please don't flame me on the plot of the story, don't waste your time and make me be disappointed with my work. But feel free to flame me for my style, English errors and anything concerning the technique aspects of writing. I want to improve myself, so your constructive flames will be helpfull on that matter -If anything as a con-flame is possible-:D**

**Warning****: This is a dark fic and AU. It will gradually turn in to something akin to a nightmare. It will contain Yaoi, self induced illness, disturbing imageries, a little violence, a few NonCon attempts and bondage, and... So, it is not suitable for people under 15. I warned you...**

**Spoilers****: L's real name in this chapter -**is there anyone who still not knows it**- , and as the work progresses there will be spoilers for the entire manga.**

Key:

1)_ Italics are either flashbacks or dreams._

2) '_This is used when a character is thinking._'

3) "This is used for dialogues."

4) **Bolds are for the events which happened to both Light and L. Thus, I didn't use either of their names. You can interpret them as scenes that happened to both of them in different, seperate places yet at the same time span. You will understand what I mean by them later on.**

5) Also inorder to avoid pronoun confusion I sometimes used _he, him, his_ for Light-Light's _in italics_ where I didn't use his name.

**Chapter One: I Lost My Light**

_One of the many doors, which lay on either side of the long hall, was ajar slightly. Again...The old gentleman peeked through the door hoping to see a little black headed figure crouched on the bed but upon failing to do so he thought to himself while closing the door. 'He must have hidden himself in the library again.'_

_With short but quick steps he descended from the stairs into the base floor of the large building and entered the library that was illuminated by the afternoon light flooding through the big windows. He passed many numbered high shelves one by one which were full of books, all of them in bad condition not because they were old but because they were used so many times to be cared._

_When the old gentleman found whom he had been looking for he saw that the black headed little kid was perched on the large windowsill, knees bended and embraced by two tiny arms and face hidden behind the knees, crying sliently to himself. His little, fragile body was shaking with sobs and he didn't even seem to hear the one approaching him, apperently so lost in his own misery._

_There was a large book opened right in front of him and there was a shiny, partly imperceptable picture on the glossy paper of the open pages. The old gentleman walked up to the child as sliently as possible and looked at the page, seeing a beautifully detailed picture of a young man holding a small kid under his arms in the air and a beautiful woman, possibly the mother of the family, with painted smiles on their faces all in attractive colours. Yet, as a sharp contrast to the happiness of the painted family, the child in front of him was exhaling trembling breaths under the rays of the indifferent sun._

_The old man bent forward and put his hand on the little child's back reassuringly. The child who seemed to be lost in his thoughts and soft sobs shot up his head and looked at the owner of the warm hand on his back with glistening tears in his big black eyes. "Watari..." Murmured the boy with a hint of weariness and shame in his voice and he immediately wiped away his eyes and bowed his head in order to hide his tear stained pink cheeks and get rid of the shame of being caught in this terrible state of vulnerability._

_The old man addressed as Watari took a few steps and sat on the windowsill bending one knee in order to face the little kid and waited patiently for the kid to recover himself and find the desire to look at him again. The kid slowly raised his head and locked his piercing black eyes with the gentleman's half lidded grey ones pulling his knees even closer to his lap and curving his tiny hands on them._

"_I am sorry Watari." He wispered, quickly blinking his teary eyes a few times. "Crying is not a bad thing Lawliet." Said Watari with a sincere smile on his lips. "But if your emotions run before your wits and not controlled they will cloud your judgement and lead you to make wrong decisions, then it is a bad thing."_

"_But I don't want to go with them. I never want to go with neither of them, Watari!" Another sob escaped from the child as he fully raised his head and looked at the old man through unshed tears. "I know." Said Watari only. And he reached for the book lying in between them pretending to look closely at the picture but just in order to give more time to the child to elaborate on what he had just said._

_The said child was only five years old but he already knew how to write and read in his mother tongue and also mastered two other languages reading and understanding them effordlessly. He never knew his real family and the only thing that remained from them was his birth certificate and a name written on it, Lawliet... He was a forsaken child and this orphanage was his second one. He had arrived Wammy's House eight months ago and Watari had taken the duity of being his protector willingly. He was so shy and often hid himself from the others, never talking too much, yet never smiling, scarcely playing with other children and only opening up around Watari. Yet he was brought up here for one of the most important roles of law enforcement...The role of L. But occasionally, as it would be in any orphanage, there would be couples around looking for children to adopt and live the illusionary happiness of having a child of their own._

_Though Lawliet hated it with all his heart, he would agree to be one of those many to be intoduced to the families, all the while hiding behind the legs of Watari and nibbling on his little thumb between his pinkish lips, staring at the couples with emotionless eyes and a blank face, trying to hide himself and his anxiety in a silent battle between the urge to please Watari by showing some manners and running away from the spot as quickly as possible._

_Yet, no matter how hard he tried to seem like the other children in order to pass unnoticed, every one family out of two or three would choose Lawliet at the first sight. It was maybe because of the hint of shyness and fear in his large black eyes, or his trembling little hand, thumb of which was being chewed upon by cute pinkish lips, or perhaps his underweight, fragile body and stark black messy hair which laid in perfect contrast to his pale skin...Or above all else, his astonishing IQ which was two times higher than other children of his age and his promising future due to his brillant mind._

"_I hate it when you make me meet them whenever a couple arrives making me feel as if I am put into demonstration!" Accused the little one without tearing his eyes off of the old gentleman who was still inspecting the picture as if enchanced by it. "Why, why do you keep on doing this to me Watari?"_

_Watari put the book on his bended knee and readjusted his glasses before turning his gaze to the child inquiring him. "Wouldn't you want to have a family of your own Lawliet?"_

"_No!" The child's insistant eyes locked with Watari's. "So why do you keep on hiding in this place and reading this particular book whenever a couple is interested in adopting you?" Little Lawliet brought his thumb to his mouth and blinked again several times._

"_It is not something to be ashamed of or be scared from to want a family, a loving father and a mother, at your age. But what you are doing is wrong my child."_

_The old man's calm and soothing voice and his patience with himself were much more angering than hearing scoldings from him-which he never did-. Lawliet almost wished to face with cold scoldings rather than being treated patiently and lovingly. Yet he knew that if he would let his temper get the better of him again, he would be nothing more than any other child of the orphanage in the eyes of Watari. He bit his thumb's soft flesh. "Is it really a wrong thing to be afraid of being left alone again, Watari?"_

_Watari bowed his head and run his hand along the glossy cover of the book. "No one can guarantee you that the other way around will happen, Lawliet. If you wish or want something you must take the risk of never ever reaching it, also. Yet take the risk not with your emotions, but with your mind...You must calculate every possibility and take a distance from it in order to see it from outside. If you won't be able to look at things from a distance, your emotions will make your mind think what you desire to see, not what you should see."_

"_Your emotions reject this every time you have an opportunity to have a family; yet your mind tells you that it is the most suitable course to take and accept the offer...Indeed, what do you want, Lawliet? What do you wish for?"_

_The child rested his chin on his knees, coverin them with his hands. "I wish I were an ordinary child and my family never have left me behind." He muttered almost to himself._

"_You know that it is impossible now, beyond your reach."_

_Lawliet swallowed and shook his head._

"_And you think that none of these families would make up for your own parents' place in your heart; and if your own family left you behind these families would do you the same much more easily."_

_Lawliet curled into himself further, if it was even possible._

_Watari leaned in and took the trembling child in his lap. The child quickly accepted it and embraced the old man thightly. Though he struggled hard for not to cry, he didn't succeed. Watari petted the mop of unruly, silky hair with an assuring smile._

"_You don't need anyone Lawliet. You already sense it too, yet you will understand it wholly when you become a young man. You will learn not to rely on anyone and you will find the courage and strenght to do so in your heart and mind. Yet, let's make a promise now; you won't cry for anything, you won't be enraged or you won't run away and hide from reality no matter how it bites and hurts. All these make you weak and feel miserable. But you need to be strong and self reliant."_

_The child raised his head to look in to the eyes of the old man giving him this secure and loving hug. "But you'll give a promise to me in return; you'll never make me meet any of those families again. If I won't feel myself as something to be pitied on or in need of the protection of someone, then I will be stronger."_

_The old man wiped away the child's tears and hooked pinkies with him, smiling. "Then it is a deal, Lawliet." And Lawliet deeply breathed and relaxed against his chest, content._

_And no one saw him crying then on. Until..._

He woke up again. But waking meant nothing more than floating on darkness and sinking into darkness again. He blinked rapidly for a few times and replayed the bits of scenes of his fading dream in his mind's eye. It wasn't a dream at all, it seemed. It was a combination of messed up events which happened in real life; remnants of his childhood piled up together and discarded in a far corner of his mind. But...How on earth was it possible for him to see his past in his dreams with all their solid reality in an amazing detail, all too vivid and nearly touchable?

But perhaps he wasn't seeing them in his dreams; he was remembering. Yet all those wise words spoken in a fatherly tone, resting in the depths of long gone years, those feelings of ummarred reality, being loved and cared for, those kind and peaceful feelings of warmth and security were all fading away slowly as if they were old photographs left under the cruel treatment of the sun. No...He couldn't have been remembering them. For, after the memories were dug up from the caverns of the mind and brought under a new light, namely remembered, those things would brighten up, regain their life and gloss; but these ones were quickly falling into those depths again and become forgotten leaving only a faded memory behind as if they never existed at all.

Nevertheless it was reassuring to know that all those things did really happened somewhere in time in his past. Those were his ties to the reality, though not very strong; and help him forget the state how he found himself in every time he woke up from those dreams-remembrances.

His state...Even he himself couldn't put a finger on how he really felt or was. His body was heavy and limp, and every limb of his was sending continuous waves of pain to his mind. To move even an inch was a troublesome and painful task. Sometimes when he woke up he would feel the need of turning on his left or right side and whenever he complied that urge he would feel the cold touch of a metal thing around his right ankle but never manage to stay awake long enough to understand what it was.

In every rare wakeful moment, whenever he could manage to think something other than how much his body hurt or how his limbs were stiff and cold, the very first thing to pop up in his mind would be the question of where he was. Then his cloudy mind would produce lots of unanswered questions...

'Where is this place, why am I here? Where are the others, what's happening? Why doesn't anybody come here? Why am I always waking into darkness and silence?'

His blurred vision would travel into the darkness hoping to see something, anything until all these questions would make him feel dizzy and remember his physical pains. And eventually these questions would only sum up into a simple one:

'Why is there no _light_?'

And soon after that simple word 'light' would remind him of only one person's face, he would tumble back into another sleep session without him even realizing it. He would see that person's face in his thoughts, which were shattered in between reality and dreams, talking to him. And when he would wake up he would be washed with the terrible sense of loneliness and the realization of that that person was never there and never would be. He would miss the heat radiating from that person's hand, which clasped his own thightly in his dream; and though he refused to admit it, he would feel desolate and afraid. Why he felt so, he never understood; but he would desperately wish to feel that hand's warmth just to make himself believe that he was not alone in this bottomless, cold darkness.

When his eyes finally adjusted themselves to the darkness he blinked several times and he found out that even though vaguelly and partially, he could see the ghostly shapes of furniture surrounding him.

He was in a spacious room, laying on a large bed amist a cloud of soft and warm pillows and blankets. When he managed to turn his head to right he figured the shape of a large window the curtains of which were drawn thightly. His weary eyes travelled from the window to the nearest wall he saw that it accomodated a large wardrobe-like thing with many handles and doors on it, the doors were glittering softly, seemingly covered with large mirrors facing the large bed he was on. From the point where the wardrobe ended was standing a door of a bathroom or a restroom. He could tell, because it was of the same paint of the walls; white, he guessed.

He turned his head to the left with patience. There was a small table and a chair on the corner of the left wall, near his bed, and an armchair was leaning its back against the said wall. The main door was standing in the middle of the same wall. A huge black or brown door made of probably wood with decorative repousse work carved on it. He gazed that door for a while as if trying to burn through it with his eyes. He was thinking whether he had enough strenght to get up and walk towards it. The question of why he was there forgotten; now he was wondering how he could get out of this place as quickly as possible.

He had been stuck in this place somehow long enough to be reduced in this state of being and he knew that he was there for a long while though he lost the track of time during that period. So, he dismissed the thoughts of whens and whys and focused on what to do to free himself from this darkness and oblivion.

First, he tried to lift his body on his bended elbows but after a troublesome struggle he figured that he was unable to do so. But he found himself shocked on two things after trying to bend his knees to support his weight equally with his elbows...First thing, he wasn't even able to carry the weight of his own light body; second, when he moved his legs for the efford, he felt the same feeling of a metal touching around his right ankle that he remembered from his dreams.

Yet, this was not a dream. When he moved his ankle a bit, the disturbing feel of the strong metal thing around his thin limb was accompanied by the realization of something heavy being dragged on with the metal circle between the bed and the blankets. His eyes widened. Because it was clinking with a soft noise, too.

As he guessed...He was shackled from his ankle and there was a chain connected to it. He threw the blankets aside to see it but all he could decipher was that the chain was jingling down the foot of the bed going beyond his sight and connecting him with god knows what. It was impossible to tell in the darkness.

What was this now? Why was he shackled down here like some animal? And who would do such a thing?

He felt as if his head was exploding because of all these unanswered questions while he rearrenged the blankets.

He tried to remember, eyes locked on the high ceiling. The last things he recalled were staying awake for unholy hours and inspecting that black Notebook after the capturing and the death of Higuichi. They had listed all the names and dates of the deaths and compared them with the ones Higuchi had scribbled into the Notebook. Then, he had questioned the grayish Shinigami about things that were missing in the puzzle in his mind inorder to come with a solid argument about the first Kira; yet all he could learn from the Reaper was what he already knew, nothing to either shatter or solidify his mind-gnawing suspicions about Light.

In the morning following those two tiresome days with the newfound Notebook, he decided to succumb to his body's urge to relax on a proper bed and went to sleep all the while Light still being handcuffed him. The debate of whether to unlock the chain for once and for all was the last thing that occupied his mind before he fell unconscious. But...He vaguely remembered that something else had happened then, but what, he couldn't tell...

He lifted his right wrist, his eyes quizically staring at it. Those familiar handcuffs were gone and seemed to have never been locked on his bony limb. Its empty place felt free yet cold. 'Who unlocked them?' he thought. 'The keys were on Watari and the cuffs were of steel. Who could manage to get rid of them?'

And his mind fled to the thought of the person who shared the other end of the cuffs with a continuous fuss. 'Where is Light? If I am here, what happened to _him_, then? How could I not realize them being unlocked?'

His mind was focusing on the possibility of him being kidnapped by someone or by a group. But...How on earth were all these possible in that strict security of the HQ building? No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't convince himself on this idea. No one knew his real name, no one saw him other than the task force members, no one knew his role in the Kira investigation, and nothing could have happened to him without Light or Watari was first eliminated out of the equation. But, what if something had happened to Light or Watari?

He felt his chest constrict painfully at the thought. To think about the auburn haired boy made him remember his dreams and the things they lived together. In his dreams his cuffed hand would be clasped firmly yet gently and he would find himself hoping to feel it longer upon every waking hour. The self loathing and the suspicion would also become overwhelming along with that hope and he would rub his hand on the matress to get rid of the lingering warmth of the illusionary hand both from his flesh and his memory.

He turned to his left side, facing the main door. Upon doing this, his cleared eyesight was stuck on the decorations of the brown-black door that reminded him of the most awful of dreams he had ever had.

In his nightmare he would find himself wandering along a damp backstreet and stand before a door which looked nearly identical to the door of this room. He would go in, door closing behind him, entering a pitch-black darkness not daring to take any steps forwards. As he would be thinking why there wasn't any light in the building he would hear the heavy sound of footsteps. But the thought of why or what for he was there would never cross his mind. All he thought would be why there wasn't any light. Being unable to see his surroundings would send a creepy feeling down his spine and he would feel so very lonely.

The sound of the footsteps would become louder. And with every thad and thud the sound would become edgy like a sharp knife. The creepy feeling would intensify just like the darkness surrounding him, but he wouldn't move, yet seek relief in knowing that the door was just a step behind him.

Suddenly the sound of the foot steps would come to a halt and he would hear something scrachy being rubbed against another scrachy thing producing a small flicker of light right in front of him illuminating the face which had been haunting and invading his dreams. He would be filled with glee, immediately walking towards the figure appeared in the middle of the darkness, streching his arm, calling. "Light..."

And the flame of the tiny match would go out dying everything in a twisting, turning, crawling darkness which seemed alive like a snake or some other serpent. Slience again, and loneliness...And the feeling of swimming in a bottomless ocean, an infinity of emptiness and non-existence. Fear.

Another scrach sound and another flame would flicker to illuminate the face he desperately wanted to see and hoped to spare him from all these terrible feelings. But on a different spot, in a different direction the flame would appear. Though he wouldn't hear any footsteps, Light would be in another direction and the flame illuminate only _him_, casting the other things around them into that crawling darkness and increasing the sense of dread and eternal emptiness as it quickly would start to cease existence.

"Light! Why don't you speak, Light?"

He would recognize a smile creeping across Light's face in the dying flame and the flame would completely go out leaving him to taste the nauseous feeling in his stomach and halting his steps he ventured to take thus far.

He would hear a laugh; Light's voice would fill the void with crystal clear laughs. When the flame of the match would reappear he would find _him_ standing in yet another direction and he would do his best to reach _him_ before the inevitable finality of the fragile flame; but just as he could reach out his hand he would stumble into the darkness again, still risking to take a few more steps to reach his companion, his hands would find nothing, get caught in the emptyness.

This scene would replay itself all through his nightmare. Light's laugh would become hysterical, gradually turning into something that would only come out from a maniac or a monster. He wouldn't realize that he was in fact dreaming, believing that he was entrapped in some kind of a sick game, never to be rescued by the only one who was able to it; never to be able to reach that one and if ever did so he knew for certain that that person would never be the same Light he was searching for.

"Why are you doing this?" he would yell breathless. "Why are you laughing, why don't you say anything, Light?"

In the end he would fall down on his knees as if giving in to the fact that there would be games even he himself couldn't win.

At the display of that exact gesture there would be a light slowly forming to illuminate the seemingly endless space he was in and he would be face to face with Light who was on _his_ knees, too, gesturing with _his _hand for him to look at the scene before his eyes.

And everytime, he would scream when faced with the things Light pointed at victoriously. Scream as if his throat would tear apart, his ears would bleed to hear the soundless cry.

Around him, or more precisely above him would be hundreds, thousands of corpses hanging from their necks on the nooses that were coming down from nowhere amidst a shroud of fog. It would seem like a desert of desolation with blood dripping cactuses bearing fruits of rotten corpses as a replacement for the bony monuments of salt saturated, water thirsted trees. And the only source shedding light to that scene would be Light himself.

In their eternal slumber the bodies would swing to and fro as if bothered by a non-existent wind. Eyes closed, lips forever silenced.

Then, ice-cold fingers would catch his chin and his eyes would crash on Light's. He would swear on his very life that he had never ever seen such a madness and a remorseless pride of victory gained upon claiming so many lives, in the eyes of any other killer he encountered other than Light's eyes. The smirk on _his_ lips was neither anything like a human's nor a wild beast's. And upon seeing this, he would throw himself backwards to get rid of the touch of the long fingers, curling up into himself and realize that he was crying and trembling like he would shatter in a million shards in any moment.

"Do you like what you see, L? I prepared this for you. For you to see from whom I cleansed the world."

The words would bite and gnaw at his sanity and he would feel loneliness, betrayal, and emptiness all at once. Yet, Light would be laughing insanely.

Without even him registering it, Light would push him in the chest and he would fall backwards with the force of it, his skull hitting the hard surface. And when he would regain his control and open his eyes he would find _him_ leaning on his body, his wrists crushed in an iron grip pinned on either side of his head. And Light would dive closer to him inch by inch with the face of a wolf in blood lust.

"Accept it, L! Come on and accept that you have lost to me; that what I have been doing is creating a perfect world free from the scum like these hanging above! Accept that you have sinned by standing on the way of a rising god! Say it, L!"

He would struggle desperately to free himself from the cold grip of the inhumanly strong hands and to get away from under the body of the killer who would gaze him as if with the intention of simply tearing his limbs apart. Yet all his violent squirmings, writhlings, and struggles would only fuel up Light's enjoyment and devilish laughs.

"Stop denying me! Stop being such a stubborn heretic!"

And the killer would release his wrists just to grab his shoulders and lift his upper body so that _he_ could throw him back to the hard surface, repeating the same assault again and again with a frightening strenght until he would cease struggling and give in to the blinding pain at the back of his head. His eyes would blur with bitter tears of agony, hatred for Kira and self loathing caused by once thinking of this monster as someone innocent at heart who deserved to be given a second chance.

His body would go limp and unmoving as the pain spilled to the every corner of his being. His shoulders would be released and Kira would lean closer. He would resist the urge to shut his eyes not wanting to give _him_ the satisfaction of seeing him defeated; he would watch his agressor with unblinking eyes as the tears would stain his cheeks and temples.

Shameless cold hands would slip under his shirt, freezing his flesh, caressing his sides and stomach. His mind would scream and protest as the realisation of what was to happen next dawn upon him. He would toss and turn his head before Kira's lips would collide with his own.

He killer above him would chuckle and taste the tears off of his face with crude lips all the while making sounds between a moan and a snarl like a wild animal lost in the extacy of its hunt.

"I will make you learn not to defy me or my rule, Lawliet!"

When he would hear his real name from the killer's mouth he would realize that he was in fact dreaming and before Kira would kiss him as _he_ held his face in place forcefully he would wake up on his own scream.

He didn't want to think but as he thought he figured that the reason of him being there would be Kira. He drew in a tired breath and folded his knees as much as possible, feeling the chain of the shackle move between the sheets and blankets.

If it was possible to get away with the cuffs, only Light could manage to do so. How, he didn't know but his gut feeling affirmed that. This possibility was driving him mad but he recalled that after they captured Higuchi, Light's behaviour slightly changed. _He_, all of a sudden, was so silent, so very observant, and the innocent, half surprised childish look on _his _face was gone immediately. Whenever he looked at _him_ he saw a confident predatory glint in _his_ caramel eyes as if waiting for something or taking pleasure in watching the chaos surrounding him.

And now as he gazed upon the partly recognizable decorations on the door he cursed himself for not being able to keep his promise with Watari. He wouldn't need anybody, he wouldn't trust anyone; he would stand tall and alone, take risks with his mind and if he would face with a challenge determined to rob him of his life, he would know that he was alone and find the courage to fight in his heart and mind. He would never let himself be towed by his emotions and never think what his feelings try to make him think; and never show the others what he thought or felt deep inside. Yet he knew now, all these 'woulds' were Simple Past Tense and he was falling down in a huge mistake head-first.

The most solid evidence of his destructive behaviour and way of thinking was that his emotions were still trying to convince him that Light couldn't have any connection with all these things happened to him. 'Genius, huh? I am the dumbest person ever walked on the earth!' he thought bitterly.

And suddenly he made a decision. He, no matter what, would get up and go to the door and try his luck with it though he was 100 percent sure that it was locked. Yes…No matter what. He threw the blankets aside and resolved to do it in one fluid motion to prevent drenching his already weak stamina all too early. He locked his eyes on the door and took a deep breath.

He threw himself up letting his legs fall from the bedside with the clink clank of the chain, stilling himself with his hands. His sudden movement sent tremors of pain to his joints as if using them for the first time and his head spun terribilly; he leaned forward unable to control himself, gagging but not vomiting thanks to his empty stomach. All this while he never unclenched his hands or tore his eyes from the door, waiting for the dizzyness and nausea to subside.

When he managed to breathe again he placed his feet firmly on the carpeted floor and leaning on the bedpost with one hand he stood up shakely. His ribs and spine cracked audibly but he didn't care. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe from his nose and slouched in his trademark way, waiting for his body to adjust itself to the feeling.

He was feeling as if standing at the edge of the world, a sweep of vertigo filling him, yet he controlled himself and waited. It was like standing up from a terrible fall after a naughty child's game with bleeding wounds on his knees. But there wasn't that old gentleman who would help him up, offering a hand.

"_One day you even won't need me, little one."_ He couldn't help smiling a bit upon recalling Watari's voice.

He collected every bit of energy hidden in his body and stepped forward; he drew his hand away from the bedpost. Though it was hard to stand without having something to lean on, after he felt that he wouldn't fall he took surer but slower step after another step. As soon as he reached his target he checked the knob but as he had guessed it was locked. Then he did the second thing popped in his mind. He looked right and left in search of a light switch, but unable to find any he went for the third option…To listen for a sound.

He leaned in closer dropping his head and holding his breath inorder to hear a sound, his eyes catching the glitter of the metal chain connected to his shackle. Yet, oddly enough the chain was going out through the crack between the sill and the door; out somewhere. He resisted the urge to bend down to pull the chain until its limit to understand how far it went, thinking that if he did so he would fall face first to the floor. He dismissed the idea and leaned his hand to the door to listen closely.

No sound…As if there was an empty space behind it which accomodated nothing connected to the living world. No talking, no murmuring, no clicking, no humming coming from a machine, no external sound; simply put, no nothing. The world beyond the door seemed silent as a grave to him.

He let out the breath he was holding and in a vain attept struggled a bit with the metal knob of the wooden door producing clinks clanks and tremors on the frame of it. He thought of shouting but quickly put it aside as a bad idea. He exhaled tiredly and collected the last bits of his energy to lean in and listen again.

Suddenly he heard something, the sound of a hard thing repeatedly hitting another hard thing. It became rhytmical. Thad, thud, thad, thud…

'Foot steps…' he thought his heartbeat gaining a quicker pace. He drew himself back a bit and waited. The nearing sounds were absolutely belonging to sure footsteps. 'One person, wearing shoes…As if coming from outside? They are a strong person. I guess…A man.'

As he was thinking to himself like this, the footsteps came to a halt just in front of the door. He braced himself as much as he could, ready to throw his frail frame in an emergency as he realized that this was in fact an emergency; he cursed his lack of strenght while he smiled a half smile of bitterness and irony. At least it was worth trying than a 40 percent possible instant death. As his mind was racing he heard keys in the lock and the knob slowly turned and he held his breath, heart paunding in his ears.

He froze. For the first time in his life he totally lost control of his body and stood cemented on the ground. The one in front of him was the protagonist of the foul scenario he refused to think as the reason of him being there and he sincerely wished he were able to feel the same happiness he felt whenever he saw _him_ in his dreams. But the one standing in front of him wasn't anymore the same person he knew.

Light…Was looking four or five years older and a little bit more well-build than the way he remembered _him_. _He_ looked a little taller and _his_ face was much more harder with a more defined bone structure and a sharp expression on it.

The still sane corner of his mind refused to acknowledge the possibility of these happening to _him_ in such a short time span, and screaming to him that this young man was no longer Light but his enemy Kira. Yet he was still speechless and frozen at the spot, gazing at _him_, wide eyes even gone wider.

Light closed the door behind _him_ and looked at _his_ nemesis' face, eyes gleaming with delight. "Finally, I've found you awake…Lawliet."

He swallowed upon hearing his name uttered with a deep, self-confident voice and he remembered breathing again. All these seemed like a continuation of his nightmare, the one he would wake up from whenever he would hear his name uttered by these vicious lips. Yet now, when he looked at the young man who was gazing him with a strange smile plastered on _his_ face, he understood that this was not a nightmare and he didn't have the chance to escape by simply waking up from it.

Suddenly he thought that some nightmares were much more endurable than the raw reality gazing at him through the predatory eyes of a young man who was calling himself _Light_ just so to mock him with _his_ serpentine, spreading darkness.

**I must say that I am writing this in my own language and then translating it into English. So, if the dialogues seemed tasteless or in lack of the fludity of daily language I apoligize beforehand. As for the grammar mistakes if you find any which interrupts the flow of the story or create confusion in meaning please inform me. I am an open minded person and I appreciate reviews more than anything even if it consists of a couple of words...A writer lives to be heard, you know...**


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